


The Colour of Your Disdain; The Colour of My Desire

by SolivagantSleepyhead



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Overuse of italics, Really fluffy, dave accidentally makes Karkat upset but fixes it with kisses shhh don't question it, im a piece of shit aaahh, karkat and dave make out and stuff, really fucking cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:01:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolivagantSleepyhead/pseuds/SolivagantSleepyhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and Karkat: The only two idiots left who aren't involved in some sort of sloppy make-out session (yet)</p><p>There isn't much to do on a floating grey rock full of horny, unsupervised teenagers flying through  space; especially not when you and your best friend have to flee the main living area because your ecto-sister decides 'hey! this would be a perfect place to have a racy make-out session with my girlfriend!'.</p><p>There's so little to do, that every movie has been watched, every moment shared... but not every secret.</p><p>Things are asked, things are revealed, things are resolved etc etc IFuckingSuckAtSummariesHolyShit</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Colour of Your Disdain; The Colour of My Desire

Before the game, you would have never pondered the outcomes and struggles of living on a grey chunk of space matter rocketing into a new dimension; the only inhabitants of said meteor being your weird ecto-sister, 4 grey skinned aliens, and a small mayor who is a literal piece in a gigantic game of chess.

If you had pondered this, though, you would have never expected that it would be this much of an egregious shit-fest.

It sounds pretty damn interesting—in theory, that is. But, in actuality, there isn’t all that much to in an abandoned laboratory sitting right the fuck on top of a goddamn _meteor._ And, after a year and a half, the pitifully small amount of things you could think of doing has been exhausted to the point where you’d rather bash your head into the sharpest object in your general vicinity than do something like taking a walk around the meteor that you’d mapped out in the first 3 weeks of 3 _years’_ worth of travel.

For the most part, you didn’t feel it necessary—or interesting—to converse with your coinhabitants; most of them were too busy, anyways. When Rose wasn’t drunk off her ass, she spent every waking moment having sloppy make-outs with her lesbian vampire girlfriend, so that was 2 people out of the 5 beings capable of speech on this god forsaken rock. Terezi was always running off to be with that weird-ass juggalo murderclown, Gamzee, who you prefer to avoid like the plague in hopes of _not_ getting your skull bashed in just because you felt a little bit lonely.

That left Karkat as the only other being on this meteor (sans the mayor) who wasn’t in some sort of life-consuming romantic entanglement. The two of you were left in the lonely losers’ club of “All of my friends are too busy getting it on to spare 5 minutes of their fucking time to hang out with me”.

It wasn’t long before the two of you began to gravitate towards each other; around the time when you ran out of things to rap about, and he had re-watched every Romcom on the meteor about a thousand times. It wasn’t a thing either of you actually acknowledged, either. It was sort of just a mutual connection over being bored off your shit with no one to talk to but one another. You did normal things: hung out, watched movies—but, you always felt this weird nagging in the back of your head, a continual suggestion of ‘this could become more’ that you had chosen to ignore because, honestly? What the fuck, brain?

“Dave? Are you even fucking listening to me?”

Your pupils dart from where they had been gazing blankly at the wall back down to the face of the person sitting in front of you. Fuck. You don’t even remember when Karkat started talking; this can’t be good.

“Yeah, of course I was listening.” You lie, thankful that he can’t see the way your pupils dart around beneath your shades. “Let’s just say, hypothetically, that I wasn’t. In that situation, I might ask you what you were talking about. And you would answer-?” Smooth, Strider. Real smooth.

He slaps his head to his forehead in irritation. “Damnit, Strider! I _knew_ you weren’t listening!”

“Well, glad we got that cleared up.” You retort, sarcastically “You wanna fill me in, then?” The look he gives you could kill. He sighs lightly before rolling his eyes and resting his head on his fist.

“I _asked_ if you wanted to head back to my room to hang out.” He scoffed “It’s gotten a little bit…” He indicates toward your sister and Kanaya who are, uh, wow. They’re really making out over there. “racy.” He murmurs, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“Definitely.” You agree, standing up, “I’m not really into the whole ‘watching my sister and her weird alien girlfriend get it on in the communal hangout area’ thing.”

The two of you quickly abscond as far away from there as quickly as possible. Living in such an enclosed place definitely had its cons; being surrounded by horny teenagers with no adult guidance was definitely one of them.

You sit on the edge of his bed, your usual spot when you come here, which is basically always.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

At this point, asking is a useless courtesy. He already has the movie bin out, because there is literally nothing else for the two of you to do when you’re banished from the main living area like this.

But, today, you actually don’t feel like watching anything.

“Nah, man. Can we not?” You question flippantly, silently laughing to yourself as his red-speckled eyes flicker over to your own inquisitively.

“What the fuck do _you_ propose that we do, then? Movies are literally all we have.”

You scratch the back of your neck a bit, suddenly aware of the fact that movies are a main facet in your relationship. You two talk, but not all that much.

“Can we just… I don’t know, talk?” You question, a bit too hesitantly for your liking. “We’ve watched every single one of those movies a thousand times, dude. How many times have we ever really just sat around and talked to each other?”

He falters a bit, a hand running through his coarse hair.

“You mean a conversation that _wasn’t_ about Rose or Terezi or Kanaya or just us, insulting one another?” He half-laughs in exasperation. “Never.”

“And that’s just fucking pathetic, Karkat.” You deadpan, layering irony over your words to betray your eagerness to actually have a real conversation that didn’t revolve around everyone and everything that you thought sucked.

“Uh, I guess?” He replies as he looks at you, skeptically. “I guess we could do that?”

“Okay.” You start, moving down to sit beside him on the floor.

A few moments pass where neither of you say anything, drowning in the silence and the utter awkwardness of having absolutely _no_ idea of how the fuck you’re even supposed to start this conversation _shitshitshitshit—_

“Did you want to know something about me? Is that what this is about?” He inquires as he quirks his lip into a half scowl, attempting to look impassive but failing entirely. 

“Not really? Well, that’s kind of a lie.” You start, immediately stopping yourself as you realize that you kind of do want to know about him? “It’s not just _something_ that I want to know. I want to know a lot about you.” You half stutter, unsure of what to say.

“Yeah, I guess we don’t really _know_ one another.” He concedes, looking back down at his hands.

“I’ll tell you what; we could make this a whole question game. I’ll ask you something, you answer, you ask me something, and I answer. Easy.” You explain, already beginning to wrack your brain for questions.

“Alright, you start.” He says, somewhat cautiously; wary of your motives.

“Favorite movie?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Might as well start this off with something easy.

“Hitch, or course.” He scoffs. “Your human version is pretty damn good, actually.”

“Okay, your turn.”

“What do you miss most—about Earth, I mean?”

Oh, so he’s going there. You can handle this.

“Fuckin’ AJ man. I would kill a man for apple juice right now.” You reply earnestly.

“I should have fucking known.” He half-laughs. “Okay, now you.”

It goes on like that for a while: favorite book, favorite food, best memory, etc.

After a while, it gets back to your turn. You pause slightly, wondering whether or not you should delve deeper into this whole ‘getting to know you better’ thing, or if that might stew up more shitty emotions.

“What was your life like? Pre-game, I mean.” You inquire, quirking your brow a bit as his eyes widen.

“…It fucking sucked.” He starts, turning his head away. “Even more than this, though.”

Shit. You might have already fucked this up.

“You?”

“It was pretty good, actually.” You reply. “I drew shitty comics, played sick jams, and had sword fights with my bro.” You smile a bit at the memory of how simple everything used to be—how few words you need to express your state of being in that time that seems like an eternity away.

“Next question:” You stop; is this really a good idea? You want to know more, but you don’t want to fuck him up. He’s staring, though. It’s now or never.

“What happened to the rest of your team?”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath. Fuck, that can’t be good. He refuses to look at you for a moment, staring blankly at the wall, eyes wide.

“I made some mistakes. Some people died. I don’t really want to talk about that, right now.” He replies; a feeble attempt at sounding indifferent lost in the mournful crack in his voice that betrays his facade. He quickly scrubs a sweater-clad arm over his eyes, sniffling quietly.

When his eyes turn to you, you know that you’ve opened the floodgates.

“What colour are your eyes?”

Fuck.

“Brown.” You lie in your best impression of confidence. You fail at convincing him.

“Yeah fucking right.” He laughs “Nobody with a normal eye colour would make such a point of hiding theirs like you do.”

You gasp in an overly dramatic fashion, brining your arm up to cover your face.

“Oh, but _Karkat!_ You mean that you don’t see the undeniable sex appeal of my eyewear? And here we were thinking Terezi was the blind one!” You cry in mock distress.

Karkat just rolls his eyes, obviously having none of your bullshit. Damn.

“Cut the act, Strider. You’re avoiding the question.” He groans. “I answered your intrusive question, so you better fucking show me your eyes before I rip off your douchey sunglasses and see for myself.”

“But, Kit-Kat; I’m serious—“

“Bullshit! Show me your eyes!”

His hand barely grazes your face as you turn to the side, effectively moving your head away from his grasp.

“Strider!! Just show me your eyes!” He growls, straddling your lap and effectively pinning you down.

“Wait—Hold up, Karkat!” you plead, grasping his wrists. “They aren’t even special, there’s no reason for me to show them to you!”

“I don’t care! I just want—I just…” He stops struggling against your hands and goes somewhat limp, pulling himself off your lap and curling into the fetal position at your side.

“Karkat?” You ask hesitantly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t care if you think they’re boring. I just want to see them.” He mutters. “I need to not think about my team, right now. I need to not think about them, and I want to think about you. But I can’t even read you with those stupid things on. You could be laughing at me, for all I know. I’m such a fucking disgrace, anyways.”

You feel your heart contract a bit. Shit. You really have to do this, don’t you?

“Karkat, you’re not a failure.” You coax reassuringly. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll show you.” You sigh in resignation.

Karkat pulls himself up and stares at you expectantly. Slowly, you reach up and remove the eyewear.

_Quick, Strider. You can do this. It's just like a bandaid, you can..._

After pulling them off, your force yourself to open your eyes again. He’s gaping at you. His eyes are wide and full of some unreadable expression and it’s kind of freaking you out a bit.

“I know, they’re pretty fucking weird.” You laugh bitterly. “This kind of shit just isn’t normal for humans, so I’ve been hiding them away my whole life. Kind of pathetic, really.”

“Shut up.” He says in an attempt to sound commanding, but it really comes out as an awed grumble of concentration as he slowly lifts his hand up to cup the side of your face. “I think they’re beautiful.”

Your heart is in your throat. _‘Beautiful’? Really?_

“For so long I—I thought I was—“ He trails off, still staring into your eyes with an intensity so persistent that it almost feels as though he isn’t just looking at you, he’s looking _into_ you. Then, he growls “Why the fuck didn’t you _tell_ me?! All this time I’ve been so _alone_ , watching helplessly as my irises bloom into this impossible colour, all while you were the exact same!”

You don’t really know what to say. His face is furious, but you can see the translucent tears collecting in the corners of his eyes, ready to spill at any moment.

So, you do the only thing you can do.

You hug him.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I should have told you. I had no idea you felt so alone in this, Kat.” You coo in his ear in as calming of a voice as you possibly can. He’s shaking, and you can feel his grip tighten on your shirt as he starts to cry.

You want to hold him, to comfort him, to protect him. That voice, the nagging one in the back of your mind, is suddenly growing clear; everything in your head is telling you that _oh god, you really like Karkat._

Grabbing his shoulders lightly, you pull him back to face you. He’s a mess. His face is ruddy with tears and his eyes are scared and pleading and lonely in that distressing way you rarely catch glimpses of when he thinks that nobody is watching him, and he lets his  protective barriers down for a moment.

“Karkat, it’s going to be okay; I promise.” You state, your voice heavy with resolve. He shakes his head slowly, eyes trained on hands, which stay balled up as they clutch to the front of your shirt.

“Dave, I—I can’t. I’m sorry that you have to s-see me like this. I’m disgusting and awful and I wouldn’t b-blame you if you wanted to leave.” He croaks quietly, his hands trembling as they tighten their grip.

“Karkat—I…” You trail off; no words are going to help him when he’s like this.

Instead, you kiss him. You kiss him, and it’s clumsy and raw and your teeth smash together but you don’t give a fuck because you _need_ this.

You expect that he’ll push you away for being impetuous, throw you out and tell you that he doesn’t want to see you anymore.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he kisses you back. He grabs fistfuls of your hair and pulls your bodies together, relishing in the contact of living being to living being. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you pull him down as you lay on the floor, his body on top of your own as you lick his lips—a silent inquiry of whether or not he really wants to _do_ this. He parts his lips for you, and you immediately map out his mouth with your own tongue, drinking in is heat and savoring the fact that _he’s here and this is real._

When he finally breaks away, he stares at you with the most worried expression you’ve ever seen.

“Do you care about me? Or, are you just bored?” He whispers, frightened.

Hearing him sound so broken tears your heart into a million pieces; even after all of this, some part of his mind is telling him that he doesn’t deserve it and that it must be a lie.

You bring your hand up to cup his face, the barely dried streaks of tears feeling cold beneath your fingertips.

“Karkat, I care about you so fucking much.” You reassure, stroking his face with your hand as he leans into the touch. “I want to make everything better and protect you from all the shitty things that make you sad or afraid. I know I can’t, but I’m going to give it my best damn shot. If you want me to, that is.” You smile awkwardly, inwardly cringing at how cliché and cheesy you sound. Hopefully, he won’t mind; after all, he does love all of those shitty Rom-coms where the dudes say weird shit like that, right?

Oh-oh fuck, he’s crying again. Shit, Strider you’re fucking blowing this—

“I mean—uh--!”

You’re silenced as he kisses you again. Unlike the last time, this kiss is languid, but dripping with passion. He breaks away and smiles softly down at you:

“I’d love to.”

When he kisses you again, you know that you don’t just like Karkat Vantas a lot;

You are absolutely smitten with him. 


End file.
